


The Right Thing III; What You Never Let Go Of

by ShamanOfHedon



Series: The Right Thing [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Cannibalism, Gen, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShamanOfHedon/pseuds/ShamanOfHedon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a threat of invasion looms over a peaceful secret community, they seek answers from the woman who brought them all there...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Thing III; What You Never Let Go Of

"You know," Svetla mentioned offhandledly as she and her mother helped to pile sacks of sand into walls that would be used as defensive positions, "you've never told me much about your life before all of this began. Or really explained the origins of this place."  
  
Marie finished wedging another sack into place and gave her daughter a stern look.  
  
"Is this truly the most opportune moment for that?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"According to the scouts?" Svetla replied. "Yes. We have at least another day before the Solitude guards return with their reinforcements. And I find talking and telling stories makes tedious work go by faster."  
  
"I agree with Little Goddess," said a Mazken woman beside them. "A tale of your past would help invigorate and speed up the work greatly Inheritor. And we have all long wondered how we came to be."  
  
Several others in the work party concurred. All along the gap in the plateau that afforded the only access point to the valley at it's centre were all manner of non-human people, helping to pile up sandbag barriers and erect emergency walls to protect the pass. The lone gap in the tall circle of mountainous stone that marked the centre of the island was 60 feet wide, and could easily be overwhelmed by an army if not protected vigorously. Fortifying it was important given the battle that loomed. A story to bolster everyone's spirits would certainly aid the work.  
  
Marie paused and turned to look at her people. There were so many people here now. She had never dreamed how big her refuge would grow when she built the first few meagre huts in that one small clearing decades ago when she had found this island. There were so many races living together in harmony here now, people who would know no peace anywhere on Tamriel nor the other continents of Nirn. There were Aureals and Mazken, who had rejected the bitter feud between their peoples as Golden Saints and Dark Seducers. There were peaceful Dremora who were refugees from Oblivion. There was a thriving contingent of Falmer, rebuilding their race to what they had once been. All manner of vilified creatures and people lived here now, and there was a secret city of outcast thriving in that valley.  
  
"Very well," Marie said, resuming the work of building defensive positions. "I will tell you all how this place came to be. The eldest among you know the beginnings of our home here, but we don't speak of it to the children that have been born and raised here. Occasionally I am asked the tale, as are the elder citizens. As is my law, we always reply that it is better left unknown. But perhaps, given what we all face coming to us tomorrow, perhaps it is time to accept that we cannot protect you from the truth forever as we had hoped. If we finish our work here within the hour, I will sit and tell you all the full truth."  
  
Inspired by the promise of finally learning the hidden story they'd all grown up wondering, the second, third, fourth and fifth generations of this strange secret tribe all doubled their efforts, and soon, the fortifications were completed, and ready to withstand any affront to their peace. Every single citizen of the hidden city gathered in the clearing behind the newly built defenses, and Marie Bandarhuul, former Empress of Tamriel, Nerevarine, Champion of Cyrodil, the Last Dragonborn, and the Inheritor of Lorkhan, sat in the middle of the crowd of over 700 people, and she began to speak. At the fortifications, 20 Nord men from Solitude, lead by Svetla's former Guard Captain Reinard, kept attentive vigil, but they too listened intently as Marie spoke.  
  
"Truth be told," Marie began, "even the elders do not know the full story of this place. It warms my ancient heart that the same 12 people I brought here to create this place still live. And to see their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and so on thrive does me wonders. And most of the 35 others I brought here after to help it grow. But we all agreed from the beginning that only those who came here from the outside needed to know of the cruealy that exists away from our island. Any of you born and raised here... we wanted you to live happy lives, free of having that weight upon your hearts."  
  
Marie sighed and glanced over at Reinard, who looked at her with anger and shame in his eyes, but smiled to her in gratitude for the chance she was giving him to rectify his mistakes.  
  
"Sadly," she continued, "the events of last week have brought that ugly truth to our home, and with a hevy and reluctant heart, I can no longer shelter you from the truth of why we all live here. But to fully understand why we will all fight for this place tomorrow, I cannot simply say why I founded this place. I must tell you what drove me to WANT to. I must confess my own hidden regrets. And for that, I apologize in advance, for once you have all heard the full truth, you can never unhear it. And I am sorry for the weight that you all now will share with me."  
  
***  
  
3E 419  
  
Marie swung gracefully through the trees, leaping from branch to branch, free-running with her friends. None of the Bosmer she attended lessons with much cared that she was technically a Breton, for she had been raised Bosmer as any of them had. She never had the taint of a true outsider, because she had never known a life outside of these forests. And as far as Bretons went, she looked more mer than most. Marie had wide eyes and decidedly longer than normal pointed ears. She was clearly not Mer, but moreso than the average Breton her ancient Mer heritage shone through. These days many people had forgotten that Bretons were a mixed race, the result of man and mer co-mingling in High Rock millennia ago. Most Bretons looked mostly human, save for a few vague lingering hints of their Merish heritage, but a few, like Marie, were somewhat of a throwback.  
  
But even if Marie hadn't had somewhat more noticeable elven traits, the other Bosmer children would have accepted her as their own regardless. Like them Marie learned to leap from tree to tree before she ever learned to walk or swim. And like them, she could take down deer with her bow before she could even speak full sentences. To her friends, she was as much a Bosmer, a Wood Elf, as any of them. To them, she was family.  
  
Which is why they knew something was wrong when she missed a branch and nearly fell 20 stories to the ground below as they neared her home. Rainya, Elain, B'Lanco and D'Vett all dove to catch her without a second thought, pulling her to the safety of the treetop platforms of their village in the canopy of the great forest.Rainya and Elain held Mrie like sisters, soothing her as she sat there, numbly, soundless crying, in shock. B'Lanco and D'Vett looked around trying to figure out what had shaken their friend so. Then they saw a trail of blood. It seemed to come from the forest floor, leading up the tree trunks, and lead into... Marie's yurt.  
  
As the girls tried to console Marie, the boys slowly crept into the Bandarhuul yurt, and found their worst fears realized. Marie's adopted parents, Trishel and Marten, lay dead on the floor, with steel arrows sticking out of them. They had been attacked, likely while hunting, and had just barely escaped and stayed alive long enough to make it home. Trishel was still breathing, but barely. With her last gurgling breath, clinging to her now dead husband, she told the boys that Imperial Legion rangers had encroached into areas they were forbidden by treaty to set foot upon in Valenwood, and attacked her and Marten to silence potential witnesses to their illegal poaching. She begged them to protect Marie, fearing what the ignorant humans would do if they discovered a Breton raised as a Bosmer.  
  
The girls had already left when the boys came out of the yurt, having wrapped the bodies. They followed the girls to the great meeting platform, where the village chieftain Kazhuul was sitting with his arm around the young Marie, who at only 13 was now once again an orphan. Rainya and Elain looked at the boys and sighed sadly seeing the wrapped bodies they were laying down by the great central firepit. The villagers had heard the Gathering Trumpet sounding, and were gathering to see what the reason for being summoned was. They all saw Marie in numb shock, and the two bodies by the fire, and no one needed to be told. They all put two and two together.  
  
Waves of sadness and anger murmured throughout the gathering crowd. They all took seats on the platform surrounding the fire. In this particular village, a platform wide and strong enough to support 100 people without risk of being overburdens was suspended between the four tallest, strongest trees in this part of the forest, and was used as a central gathering place for holidays, meeting, village councils, and various other gatherings. Any who could not find a spot to sit on the platform itself took a seat in the surrounding branches and nearby smaller platforms. But nigh the entire village, maybe 300 Bosmer, gathered around to hear the official answer, even though by now most had already guessed.  
  
As Elain and Rainya continued to cuddle and comfort their weeping tribesister, Kazhuul approached the firepit and addressed the boys.  
  
"Though I suspect," he began, his weathered but commanding voice silencing the murmurs of the villagers, "that I have already guessed the answer, as have we all, tell me please children, what has happened here?"  
  
B'Lanco, who had no tongue due to a previous encounter with encroaching Imperials a few years earlier, gave his brother a solemn nod, and D'Vett nodded back. He turned to his chief and father and spoke.  
  
"My father, my chief," D'Vett began, "the girls and ourselves were, as we do every day, free running below the village platforms, honing our acrobatics, dancing across the trees, when Marie saw something that broke her concentration. As we all know, Marie is among the best of us when it comes to tree dancing, so we knew whatever had shaken her must be bad. We caught her before she could fall to a great injury. And as our sisters held her in comfort, we investigated the cause of her shock. To our sadness and rage, we found evidence of wounded folk having come from the ground up into the village, a clear and bloody trail staining the trees. The trail led to the yurt of the Bandarhuuls, our dear tribe sister's parents."  
  
Kazhuul nodded solemnly. "Go on," he said.  
  
"We feared the worst," D'Vett continued, "and our fears were not unfounded. Her father lay on the floor, already dead, as his wife lay dying also, clinging to her husband. She saw us, and with her final breaths, told us how their fate had come to pass. It seems as they were hunting they encountered yet another party of Imperial Poachers, illegally violating the treaties our ancestors signed with Tiber Septim, hunting OUR game on OUR lands where by law they may not tread. It would seem they killed the Bandarhuuls hoping to prevent any witnesses to their criminal trespasses."  
  
"I see," Kazhuul said, his voice the same mix of sadness and anger that gripped his tribe. "Prepare their bodies for the spit. Tonight we shall all feast on our fallen brethren in their great honour. Tomorrow we shall..."  
  
"No," a shaking angry yet oddly serene young voice interrupted. Kazhuul turned around and was startled to find the young Marie standing behind him.  
  
"No?" he asked. "I do not understand your words Marie. Please explain.  
  
"I will not join you in the feast," she said, staring with fiery eyes at her dead parents.  
  
"You will not?" Kazhuul asked, looking at the angry girl.  
  
"No," she said. "I will not. You will all feast on my parents bodies this night. I am grateful to know they will feed you all with honour, in service to the Green Pact. It pleases me that you will all fill your stomachs from my loss this night."  
  
"But..." Kazhuul asked, looking at Marie with hesitation, fearing what her answer might be, "you will not join us in the feast?"  
  
"I will not," she replied numbly. "I must save room in my stomach for my own feast. I must save my appetite for the men who murdered my parents."  
  
The villagers all hung their heads sadly, nodding solemnly in unison as their chief put his hand affirmingly on Marie's shoulder and did the same.  
  
"I understand Wood Child," he said, and gave her a warm sad hug. "It pains me that a girl so young that she has barely yet even begun to blossom into a woman must know such pain, and moreso that you will know the cruel sting of the desire for vengeance. But the choice you have made is yours alone to make, and as is our custom, we shall all respect the choice you have made. We will not rob you of the deaths these men deserve. They are yours alone to kill and to eat. None here shall interfere in your righteous retribution. Know that you honour your parents and indeed all of us with your brave determination. Whatever your body may be little one, you have proven yet again what we all have always known. Your soul is Bosmer. We honour you Tribe Sister. Go seek your vengeance with my blessing. May their flesh be sweet, and may ther bones serve you for many years to come."  
  
Marie nodded, and hugged her friends goodbye. As the rest of the village began to cook and eat her parents, as was Bosmer custom, (for as is beholden in the Green Pact, no tree in Valenwood may ever be harmed nor used for building, and no meat may ever be wasted. Respecting the will of the Green in Valenwood was absolute), Marie packed up her few personal possessions, and took her fallen parents arrows and weaponry with her, and set off into the forest to follow the trail her parents left back to their murderers.  
  
It took her but a day to track them. The fools were lazy and arrogant, lead by a fat bloated nobleman from Leyawinn in Cyrodil. He was the sort of pompous nobleman who felt that silly things like "laws" and "rules" had no business interfering in his fun, and he had hired three former Imperial Legionnaires as his hunting party. They thought they had long since escaped any fear of being caught or reported by those elves they'd shot. They bragged to each other how much fun it was hunting Mer instead of deer. One gloated what a pity it was that the pair had run away, for what fun it might have been had they caught the woman and made use of her body to entertain their manly urges before she died.  
  
Marie seethed, but did not act. For she was a Bosmer from birth, regardless of her skin, and was too wise to act rashly out of rage. She sat, concealed in the trees, observing, studying, watching every tiny thing the bloated fools did as they drank themselves into a stupor and gorged on stolen meat. They burned wood cut from the sacred trees that were never to be harmed. They had left deer corpses to rot nearby, having removed only the finest cuts from the animals. All that meat, wasted, unusable now. Skins that could no longer yield clothing, sinews and tendons too rotted to be turned nto straps and strings and ropes, meat no longer safe to eat. It was a staggering waste, an affront to Bosmeri ways, an insult to the Green Pact. Marie would enjoy killing these men, not only to avenge her parents, but to punish their great disrespect for the trees and animals they were abusing.  
  
Marie waited until most of the mercenaries had fallen asleep, before she began stealthily circling their camp, moving like a fish through water, killing each man instantly with an arrow through the eye. The last merc fell right at the feet of the fat bloated nobleman, who trembled and wailed in panic, at first believing a ghost had killed all his men. Then he saw Marie slipping out from the shadows, and at first thought to laugh. He could not understand quite what he was seeing. A child, and a Breton child at that. Standing there, in animal skins, carrying a bow of bone and sinew, staring at him with eyes that dripped with hatred and rage.  
  
"You..." he said, confused, "are not a Wood Elf."  
  
"Oh but I am," Marie replied, in an eerily serene calm voice. "Why, I am part elven by blood, and I have lived all my life in these woods. Do I not then seem very much like a Wood Elf to you?"  
  
"You're confusing me," the nobleman said, frightened by this smiling child with hateful eyes and the calm soothing voice. "Did... did YOU kill my men?"  
  
"It is entirely possible," she replied, still speaking serenely, still slowly approaching him, "that in fact I did indeed. Why I am almost certain these are my arrows sticking from their punctured eyes."  
  
Marie calmly plucked arrows from her victims as she passed each body, as if a little girl picking flowers in a field. The Nobleman grew even more frightened by the eerie way she was acting. Exactly as she had planned it.  
  
"Why?" he asked her, in a small, frightened, broken voice. "Why did you kill them?"  
  
"Well," Marie replied, now standing directly in front of the terrified noble, wiping blood, brain and vitreous humour from her arrows, "they DID murder my parents in cold blood because they happened to see you lot breaking the law. It seems only fair I kill them all for orphaning me, don't you agree?"  
  
Her serene cheerful smile as she said this broke him, and he began sobbing in fear, knowing that his life was about to end.  
  
"Please," he begged in a sobbing broken voice, "please spare me! I... I did not know we were on forbidden lands I swear! I will never return her again if you deign to spare my life! Please! I too have a daughter! Would you see her too robbed of her father?"  
  
Marie stroked the man's hair soothingly, still smiling.  
  
"Oh you strange silly man," she said, her voice still unsettlingly cheerful and serence as she smiled at him. "I have no intention of killing you."  
  
"You... you don't?" he asked, wary of the strange frightening child.  
  
"Of course not," she said. "I'm only 13. There are already more men here than I can eat all by myself."  
  
The noble's eyes went wide with shock and disgust. He had heard the stories of Bosmer cannibalism, but had thought them scary fairy tales told by the Legion to scare poachers out of Valenwood.  
  
"You mean..." he said, terrified, as she began to bind his legs and secure him to the fallen tree upon which he sat.  
  
"Yes," she said cheerfully. "You and I are going to share a hearty meal together my good man. We will feast together on your idiot murderers, and I will explain to you as we eat exactly why they deserved to die. I will teach you of the Green Pact. And I will make sure you remember every single detail of my face as I eat your men. And then you will go home. Back to your comfortable mansion. And you will tell any who will listen why they must NEVER EVER COME HERE. Won't that be fun?"  
  
Terrified, the man just hung his head and nodded sheepishly. Unable to escape, all he could do is watch as Marie set up the tools she had brought with her. Over the next two hours she stripped all three men to the bone. She cleaned the meat, and set several large chunks of thigh meat in the spit over the campfire. She prepared the rest of the meat to be cured so it would not go bad, cleaned the bones and stacked them in a neat pile, and cured all the sinews and tendons and veins into strings and straps. Their skins were stretched out onto tanning racks she had fashioned from some of the bones, and she tanned the skins as the meat on the spit cooked.  
  
When she was done, she sat by the frightened broken nobleman, and began to eat, forcing him to join her in her meal, and she explained to him why this was happening. She explained the Green Pact, which demanded no meat ever go to waste. She explained her love for her Bosmer parents, and that his men had forfeited their lives to her by Bosaermi Law. She explained by that law she could kill him too, but chose to spare him to teach him to be an example to other lazy worthless rich men who might think it fun to poach on Bosmer lands. She made him join her meal so he would understand the consequences so deeply that there would be no risk that he might ever think of doing this again.  
  
The frightened man ate as he was told, in fear for his life. He listened intently to her every word, afraid of angering her further. He even awkwardly complimented her cooking, in a desperate bid to make her like him so she might simply free him without asking anything of him. By morning, the rest of her tribe arrived to gather up the bones and skins and strings and meat she had prepared, to take it back to the village stores. Kazhuul watched as she cut the noble free, and made him promise to be an example to others of why poaching here was a bad idea. And she gave him a small coinpurse made from the skin of his dead mercenaries, to forever remind him of how close he himself came to dying.  
  
After the man fled, and the rest of the tribe had left again with all the food and materials Marie had gotten from the dead men, Kazhuul sat with her on the fallen log.  
  
"That was your last meal here," he began sadly.  
  
"I know," she said. "By showing him mercy I know I have risked him coming back here with soldiers. By law I must leave here to protect our tribe. I am ready to accept those consequences."  
  
"You are brave for one so young," Kazhuul said, hugging her close to him. "I would personally have prefered you had just killed him as well. But I understand why you spared him."  
  
"I could not have stayed anyway," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "It would hurt me too much to live in that yurt without them. They wanted me to someday leave Valenwood anyway, to learn about my birth culture. To learn how other Breton live. Perhaps, they hoped, to even teach others to respect the Green more. To not tear down forests to build ugly extravagant houses. Though I imagine they had hoped it would not be so soon."  
  
"I do fear for you," he said. "To us you are already an equal. Too young to marry or mate perhaps, but old enough to be respected and treated as an adult, to do the work of adults, to decide your own fate. But to outsiders, you will be seen as a child. You will be dismissed, talked down to, treated as stupid and helpless. It is going to be a hard frustrating life until you reach adulthood. You could still go kill him before he gets too far away and avoid exile. I should rather like it if you did. None of us want you to leave."  
  
"I do appreciate your love for me my chief," she said. "The love you have all shown me. And I will miss you all greatly. But I have made the choice I feel in my heart I must make. Tell all my friends goodbye for me. And that it was my great honour to be their friend and tribe sister in kind."  
  
I shall," he said. "I must beg you to heed this warning though dear child. Once you leave Valenwood, you are free of any allegiance to the Green Pact. And more than that, for your survival you MUST forgo parts of it. What to us is simply not letting meat go wasted, to outsiders is an abomination. They call it cannibalism. They deplore it. It is illegal in the other provinces. If you eat a man or an elf they will jail you. You can never honour the Green Pact outside of this forest, lest you be imprisoned or even executed. Respect nature as best you can, but the meat of man and mer must never again cross your lips."  
  
"I know," she replied, "and I understand. I accept that the customs in which I have been raised are not the customs to which I will have to adapt. I still believe this is the path I must take."  
  
Kazhuul sighed a deep sad sigh and nodded.  
  
"Then," he said as he stood to face her, "you have my blessing and my support. With reluctance I honor our laws and hereby banish you from our tribe. You are hereby forbidden to set food in our territory for twenty years. With a heavy heart, I do solemnly declare you an outcast. May you find whatever it is you seek, and may you not come to regret the path you are choosing. But please... when those decades have passed by, come home to visit? We will all be waiting for you."  
  
Marie nodded quietly, hugged her now former chieftain, and gathered up her things. She began to make her way north, towards Cyrodil.  
  
As she left the great forest, another Bosmer watched her from the treetops. But this was no Bosmer of her tribe, for he was dressed in the uniform of the Blades. He wrote something on a parchment, then rolled it up and tied it to the leg of a trained hawk, sending the bird to deliver his message to his superiors at the White-Gold Tower.  Then he followed Marie to the border, keeping downwind and out of sight, making certain he remained close enough to observe her but too far away for her to detect him unless she knew to be looking. After she had crossed the border, and another Blade took over the strange distant pursuit, a Blade disguised as one of the border guards waved his Bosmer comrade over.  
  
"End of an era for you eh Thalen?" the disguised Redguard said to his Bosmer compatriot.  
  
"Earlier than I expected Brelas," Thalen replied. "To this day she surprises me. It will be strange to no longer be her primary Observer."  
  
"Dare I ask why she's leaving her adopted home five years ahead of schedule?" Brelas asked him.  
  
"Her last meal didn't agree with her Brelas," Thalen replied, preferring to not share the gory details. "Let us just leave it at that."  
  
Brelas nodded and officially noted that Thalen was relieved of Observer duty, which now belonged to Brynhelm Shattershield, a young Nord Blade who would now follow and observe Marie for the Emperor in Cyrodil. Thalen sighed.  
  
"It's funny how close you can feel to someone you've never met nor spoken to," he said sadly as he and Brelas shared a meal. "But today I feel like a father watching his only child leave the nest."  
  
"Perhaps," Brelas replied, filling Thalen's mug with brandy, "it is for the best your time as her Observer is done. I know I myself would not wish to witness the hell that lies before that poor girl."  
  
Thalen clinked mugs with Brelas and down his drink.  
  
"On that we agree Shield Brother," Thalen replied. "On that we most definitely agree."  
  
***  
  
"EWWWW!" said a young Dremora child, a 5 year old boy named Gregras. "You mean you used ta eats people?"  
  
"I did," Marie said. "And while I do so no longer nor ever would again, I am not ashamed to have done so as a child, for it was simply the custom of the people who took me as one of their own, who raised me, loved me and cared for me. To do so then was a normal to me as shedding your horns every fall is to you."  
  
"I'm curious Mother," Svetla asked, "while I did wish to learn of your early life, I must admit that I am unsure how this story ties in to your eventually creating this place."  
  
"Look no further than Gregras," Marie replied. "When told of a custom of a people different to him, not knowing any better, he reacted with disapproval. So many do. And to most of the people in this world, that is the normal and natural way to react to those who look, think or act differently than oneself. And anywhere else that belief would be encouraged. You, my daughter, have seen the petty bigotry and racism that so many in Tamriel live with. The Altmer think all other Mer and Men are inferior. The Nords despise the elves. Wars have been started over simple differences of belief and custom. But here? Here Gregras' parents will teach him to overcome those ideas. They will raise him to respects all races as equals. He will never be taught to think that those with lighter or darker skin, those without horns, those who are shorter or taller, are inferior. Here he will grow up learning that they are merely different, and that being different makes life more interesting. Here he will learn that love is better than hatred."  
  
Svetla smiled.  
  
"I understand," she said. "Do please go on?"  
  
***  
  
3E 433  
  
Marie stood there, exhausted, covered in blood, bodies strewn across the courtyard around her. Haskill stood nearby, his face dull and expressionless as always. Jansa knelt at her feet, barely alive, clinging to her leg as she bled. Jyggalag had just vanished to wander Oblivion, and declared that she was now Sheogorath, the Madgod. Marie simply stood there, her eyes twitching with rage.  
  
"HASKILL!" she screamed, causing the wiry demure butler to teleport himself to be immediately in front of her.  
  
"Yes my Lady?" he replied dryly.  
  
"Get help for Jansa," she said. "NOW."  
  
"She is dying my Lady," Haskill replied. "Wouldn't it be easier to just throw her away and make a new one? You are Sheogorath now, you can do that you know."  
  
"Has the possibility ever occurred to you Haskill," she said in her eerie serene calm voice that terrified people when she used it, "that perhaps there is a slight problem in naming a perfectly sane yet decidedly dangerous person as the successor to the Daedric Prince of Insanity?"  
  
"I hadn't given it a thought My Lady," Haskill said. "The last Sheogorath started out sane too. You saw where that lead us."  
  
"Get her help," Marie repeated. "NOW. Or I'll use YOUR entrails to jump rope for an hour."  
  
"See?" Haskill said as he vanished to fetch a healer, "you're already a natural at it. Back in a jiffy My Lady."  
  
Scowling, Marie sat down and cradled Jansa, trying her best to heal her wounds with her magic that didn't seem to work right in this realm. The conversation with her long lost father Alastair was still a month away. She had saved Tamriel from the Oblivion Crisis, but was still a month from having her memory of being the Nerevarine restored. She had become so desperate to escape from Chancellor Ocato pressuring her to become Empress that when a strange glowing door appeared from nowhere in the Niben bay, she was all too happy to blindly jump through it to escape from him.  
  
Upon doing that, she found herself in an entirely different realm of Oblivion than the one she had spent most of the past year jumping in and out of. She knew she had left Mundas, but this was most certainly not The Deadlands, the realm of Deadric Prince Mehrunes Dagon. Instead she found herself in a bizare land, an island with two sides. One bright and colorful with lush towering vegetation, the other half dark and twisted and decayed, covered in giant gnarled roots. She would soon learn she was in The Shivering Isles, the realm of Sheogorath. And for 6 long months she was trapped there, though only 6 days had passed in Mundas by the time she stepped back into Tamriel.  
  
During those 6 months, she was dragged into the service of the Madgod, helping insane people achieve nonsensical goals, doing her best to stay sane herself as she was once again used as a cosmic puppet to resolve he conflicts of others. She learned that this was the time of the Greymarch, when Sheogorath would be briefly allowed to become who he originally was; the Daedric Prince of Order, Jyggalag. Millennia before, the other Princes drove Jyggalag mad, and cursed him to an endless cycle oif self destruction. At the end of every era, Sheogorath would be Jyggalag once more, destroy the Shivering Isles, then once again go mad, becoming Sheogorath once more, beginning the cycle all over again.  
  
But in Marie, Sheogorath saw the possibility of breaking the cycle, for if someone could actually defeat Jyggalag during the climax of the Greymarch, the curse cycle would be broken, and the Isles would be spared. Marie, much to her chagrin, was the lucky patsy who got to be suckered into fighting a god.  
  
During her 6 months, she had grown close to one Dark Seducer, a Mazken named Jansa, who was the captain of the Dark Seducer contingent who defended the Court of Dementia. Jansa was different than the others. While neither the Dark Seducers of Dementia nor the Golden Saints of Mania seemed particularly insane as far as residents of the Isles went, most were perfectly happy to serve the Madgod with almost religious fervor. Jansa however had confided to Marie that she tired of the endless petty insanity she had to deal with and would love to see other realms, free of her obligations to he Madgod.  
  
Haskill returned with a healer, and they took Jansa away to be treated. When she was alone in the courtyard, still sitting slumped, staring sadly at all the dead bodies, she growled angrily, and screamed aloud.  
  
A few days later, when Jansa was healed and recovered enough to travel, Marie shoved the Staff of Sheogorath into Haskill's hand and began to walk towards the gates of Mania and Dementia, taking Jansa with her. Haskill immediately protested, finally showing a little emotion.  
  
"But you can't leave!" he protested. "YOU are the Lord... er, Lady Sheogorath now! You MUST remain here, with your people! The Shivering Isles need you!"  
  
"Who are you trying to kid Haskill?" Marie replied. "YOU run this place. You always have. You just let old Shuggy THINK he was in charge. But we both know it's always really been YOU who truly ran the show here. So now you get to do it in public. YOU can be Sheogorath. Me? I'm leaving. And if you try to stop me I WILL kill you."  
  
Haskill went to say something else, but Marie simply glared at him, and without her knowing it, her eyes changed. They glowed, and turned purple, and Haskill knew those eyes well. While Marie was still years away from learning that she had already become an immortal being with the power of the World Maker at her disposal, Haskill had lived long enough to know what those eyes meant. And Haskill, in his duties for his master, was aware of how Azura had tricked a mortal into destroying the Heart of Lorkhan a few years prior, and what that actually meant for the mortal in question. Haskill realized Marie WAS that mortal, even if Marie herself did not yet know what she truly was. But Marie didn't need to know for Haskill to know that it was suicide to cross her any further.  
  
With reluctance, Haskill accepted the staff of his own free will, and he became Sheogorath. He became him so fully that he forgot he had ever BEEN Haskill, and created a new Haskill out of thin air to be HIS Haskill. Because there had to be a Haskill. To be the Madgod and not have a Haskill? Why that was just crazy.  
  
As they walked to the portal between the Isles and Cyrodil, Jansa was excited to tell Marie everything she wished to see and do in the mortal plane. Marie smiled, looking forward to having a traveling companion. With their arms draped around each others' shoulders, they leapt through the portal back to Cyrodil, and were greeted by an Imperial guard. Upon seeing the Mazken with her arm around the Champion of Cyrodil, the guard saw only a Deadra touching the woman he had been assigned to bring back to the White-Gold Tower. Not waiting for an explanation, or even permission to interfere, he screamed obscenities at Jansa, and lunged at her with his sword, shouting to Marie that he would "save her" from the "foul abomination". Jansa was still weak from her prior injuries, and Marie was still slightly dazed from jumping through the portal. Neither of them had the time to properly react to the guard's sudden charge.  
  
By the time Marie had shaken off the effects of travelling through the portal, Jansa was dying at her feet again. Marie kicked the guard in the groin to render him helpless and once again found herself cradling her dying Mazken friend. But this time, there were no Palace Healers of New Sheoth to send for, and Marie was still unaware of her true power, and thus could not willfully access it to save Jansa's life. All Marie could do was cry as Jansa touched Marie's lips.  
  
"I was going to be with you forever..." Jansa gurgled, as the last breath of life slipped from her. Marie sobbed, and as the guard recovered from her kick and looked at her in confusion, she screamed like a guttural animal and leapt at him like a jungle cat, pinning him to the ground holding the point of one of her arrows against his jugular.  
  
"WHY???" she screamed. "Why did you kill her? She was my friend you bastard! WHY???"  
  
"B-Because she was a Daedra!" he replied, cowering in confused terror. "I thought the filthy abomination was attacking you as you escaped whatever hell that portal lead to!"  
  
"Filthy abomination?" Marie asked incredulously. "LOOK AT HER! Does she look ANY different from me aside of her skin being grey?"  
  
"I... no?" the guard muttered timidly.  
  
"Then why did you kill her?" she demanded.  
  
"Because she's a daedra," he replied. "They're all evil... aren't they?"  
  
"Are all Imperials evil?" Marie asked him.  
  
"Of course not!" he replied. "Only some are."  
  
"Did it EVER occur to you," Marie asked, digging the arrowhead harder against his skin, drawing blood, "that maybe, JUST maybe, daedra are no different?"  
  
"I..." he began, "no, why would it? They're Daedra, they're all demonic monsters."  
  
Marie was furious, overcome with rage, and angrily shoved her arrow straight through the guard's neck, killing him. Then she crawled over to her friend and held her dead body in her arms, sobbing, cursing herself for bringing Jansa here just to get her killed.  
  
A few hours later, at the statue of Sheogorath near the border to Elsweyr, Jansa was buried, and Marie was pounding on the statue with a warhammer she had taken from the Guard's back. As she smashed the statue to pieces, she heard the new Sheogorath's voice speak through it, demanding she explain her insolence. She in turn reminded him that he owed her his existence, and demanded as payment of his debt that he seal and destroy that portal, and that he never again meddle in the affairs of mortals.  
  
He agreed, reluctantly. The last lingering trace of what had been Haskill knew better than to challenge her. He did as she asked, and she finished destroying the statue, so that no one in Mundas could ever use it to commune with him.  
  
Then she set off back to the Imperial city, to demand the answers from Ocato that he would send her to a secluded cottage in Hammerfell to get.  
  
***  
  
"So that was right before you met your father for the first time?" Svetla asked.  
  
"Aye," Marie replied. The Mazken girl who had been lifting sandbags with them earlier raised her hand.  
  
"Yes Nereen?" Marie asked her.  
  
"Inheritor," Nereen began, "if you got the Madgod to seal that portal, how am I and my sisters here in Mundas? And why was Jansa's death a part of the story of our city?"  
  
"Jansa died," Marie replied sadly, "because a human saw only the stories and prejudices he had always been taught. If it wasn't human or elf, it must be a deadra, and all daedra are evil demonic monsters who exist to slaughter mortals and eat their children. It never occurred to him for even a moment to think that maybe those prejudices were wrong. It never crossed his mind to think that she was touching me out of friendship, and not of a desire to murder me. All he saw was a monster, and he acted according to that belief, however wrong it was. If a place like this had existed then, I could have had Haskill move the portal here, and Jansa would still be alive.  
  
"Okay," Nereen replied. "But then how did we get here?"  
  
  
"Because a few decades later," Marie replied, "another portal opened. And I saw an opportunity."  
  
***  
  
4E 7  
  
The Red Year. Hell was reigning down upon the earth in Vvardenfell. Despite her best efforts as Empress, Marie had been unable to prevent the final fall of the Ministry of Truth. The resulting earthquake caused by that 500 tonne chunk of rock crashing into the city of Vivec at full speed had set off the eruption of Red Mountain, an eruption that had instantly killed thousands, and had wiped out all but the coastal settlements on Vvardenfell. Marie had spent the past 8 months rescuing as many survivors as she could, getting them to either Ebonheart or Seyda Neen to be taken to the mainland with other refugees.  
  
She was wandering through the remains of Ald'ruhn, half buried in cooled lava turned to rock, covered in soot and ash, looking for anyone who might have survived, when she heard a familiar cackle behind her.  
  
"What a GLORIOUS sight this is eh lass?" Sheogorath asked her. And truly it was him. Any and all traces of what was once Haskill were long gone, transferred to the new Haskill. He had truly become Sheogorath, even taking on his predecessor's memories. For all intents and purposes, he had ALWAYS been Sheogorath, and no one truly knew any different but she. Anyone else who had ever known that the first Sheogorath had become Jyggalag again permenantly, or that Marie had made Haskill into the new Sheogorath by refusing to become him herself, all died in that final battle at New Sheoth, or on that lonely tiny island in the Niben bay in Cyrodil.  
  
"Is there some particular reason that you're breaking your promise to me Shuggy?" Marie asked without even turning to look at him.  
  
"I'm not!" he replied. "At least I don't think I am. I threw the giant rock long before I became me. The old me did anyway. When I was him. Or when I wasn't. I can't rightly remember quite which me I was when I was him. But it was before you were me for a few days, so it doesn't count against my promise."  
  
"True," Marie replied. "But you're here, in Mundas. To do that you had to have created a portal."  
  
"He didn't actually," said a female voice behind Marie. She turned around at last, to see a Mazken she remembered from the Isles, Dylora.  
  
"Hello again," Marie said, nodding at Dylora. "Do elaborate please?"  
  
"The portal we came through?" Dylora replied. "It was already here. Had been for centuries. It had just been buried under a landside. The eruption of Red Mountain unearthed it. The Madgod decided to take a peek at the destruction his centuries old prank had caused here. I and my sisters came along to make sure he kept his word to you."  
  
"Fair enough," Marie replied. "But do please kindly don't let him stay long. He annoys me. And I know now what I didn't then. There are consequences to annoying me now that even I couldn't have imagined back then."  
  
"I gathered as much," Dylora said, "given that it's been 26 years since I saw you last and you've not aged a single day. That tends to not be a common thing amongst you mortals. So I'm guessing you're not as mortal as you look."  
  
"Oh dear girl," Marie said wearily, "you have NO idea."  
  
"No My Lady," Dylora replied, "I most likely do not. But I once swore eternal allegiance to you. I still would honour that if you'll let me."  
  
"I thought your allegiance was to him?" Marie asked, confused.  
  
"In his realm it is," Dylora replied, as Sheogorath floated around behind them, laughing at all the destruction that had befallen Vvardenfell. "But this is not his realm. It is yours."  
  
"Well, thank you I suppose," Marie replied, "but this realm is not my property. I just live in it. And the last Mazken that followed me here was killed by a frightened bigot with a sword not ten seconds after she set foot here. I'd rather not see you suffer the same fate."  
  
"You really haven't much choice My Lady," Dylora said. "Once a Mazken leaves a plane of Oblivion and sets foot in Mundas, in Mundas she forever remains. Once we have touched mortal ground, we cannot go back to Oblivion."  
  
"Why in the hell would you com here then?" Marie asked.  
  
"To serve you," Dylora replied.  
  
"I don't need or want servants," Marie protested. "And I certainly don't want your deaths on my conscience."  
  
"I'm afraid the matter is settled," Dylora said. "So what would you have us do?"  
  
At that moment, Sheogorath got bored, screamed "CHEESE!!!" at the top of his lungs, and flew back through the portal, closing it behnd him, leaving seven Mazken and five Aureals stranded in Mundas. Eight women, four men, and no way back to the Shivering Isles.  
  
Marie sighed heavily and sat on what remained of a merchant's stall. She looked at the strange dozen before her, refugees from another realm, who had no place in this world, full of frightened dangerous people who would do them harm at the mere sight of them. She knew if she brought them to any town or city in Tamriel they would be attacked on sight. As they all stared at her for guidance, she sat in quiet contemplation.  
  
A few years prior, while still Empress, she had discovered that, behind her back, Ocato had established a secret prison camp, in which were housed a few dozen Dremora who had fled the Deadlands through the Oblivion Gates during the Crisis, hoping to find better lives in Mundas, free of Dagon's oppression. She was furious, and ordered Ocato under threat of execution to set them all free. She had a small secluded Aeyleid ruin in the Jerrol Mountains converted into a sanctuary for them. But she had always feared that once she had faked her death, that sanctuary would be at constant risk of being wiped out by fearful people under Ocato's orders.  
  
She looked at Dylora, and her eyes flashed with an idea.  
  
"Can you crew a ship?" she asked.  
  
"We can," Dylora replied hesitantly, "but... why?"  
  
"Because I have an idea," Marie replied. "Have had for a long time. But I never had a way to explore that idea until now."  
  
Marie fished an old map from her pouch. She had found it in the Moth Priests' library in White-Gold Tower, dusty and forgotten behind a bookshelf. No one else seemed to even know the map had ever been there. It seemed to predate the Septim dynasty altogether, older even than Tiber Septim's time. It showed a small secluded island to the far east of Morrowind that was not on any modern map of the known world. And island that would be a perfect place to create a small place to live, away from the modern world, safe from mortals and their petty squabbles and prejudices. But she dared not sail there with a crew of mortals. How could she keep it a secret if she let mortals know where it was? And she knew she could not successfully operate a sturdy enough ship to make the voyage by herself.  
  
She showed Dylora the map. Dylora smiled. She waved over Desha, an Aureal woman that Marie was also familiar with. Desha looked at the map and she too smiled.  
  
"We know that place," Desha said. "Long ago, before mortals from other lands came to what you call Tamriel and populated it, that Island was a site of pilgrimage. Mortals would go there to commune with their Gods. But once the mortal races discovered Tamriel and began to converge there, the tiny island they once revered became forgotten. As best we know, no mortal has known of it nor set foot there in over ten thousand years."  
  
"What did you have in mind for such a wondrous place My Lady?" Dylora asked.  
  
"A new home," Marie said. "I've spent a few years trying to find a place I can relocate a few dozen Dremora refugees to, to protect them from the hatred of mortals. But I need a crew for a ship to sail there that I can implicitly trust to not go back to Tamriel blabbing about it's location or what lives there. Will you twelve be my crew and help me create a place there where all those whom man and mer would shun and do harm can live safely on this plane, free from persecution?"  
  
In unison, and without hesitation, all twelve shouted "We will My Lady!". With that, Marie led them all to the northern coast of Vvardenfell, to a ship she had purchased in secret and left moored in a secluded bay that no one went to after the eruption. They set sail to the Island, which the ancient map named as Vhinderahl. Once there, they followed a path up through the outer forests, finding the one lone gap in the circular plateau atop the island, to the huge forested valley within it, several hundred acres of lush green forest with a few scattered clearings. The perfect place to build a community.  
  
They set to work building a few large buildings, making sure there would be room for the Dremora refugees. Marie and her temporary servants cleared only enough trees to build what they needed, as Marie had decided that this community would be respectful of Nature, taking only what it needed to thrive and nothing more, that it would care for and nurture the forest and the wildlife within it. Once the first few buildings were completed, they plowed fields for farmland, and planted their first crops.  
  
After a month, the first humble beginnings of their community were completed, and Marie took half of them back to the ship, to sail back to Morrowind, and cross the border back into Cyrodil. To Marie's relief, Ocato had been so frazzled dealing with crowning Marie's successor that he had forgotten about the Dremora. The refugees were elated to see that Marie had kept her promise to return for them, and carefully, they all gathered their meagre belongings and their children and pets and livestock, and made the trek back to Marie's ship. Marie had taken the precaution of having bought another pair of ships that she had left in the care of some Argonian and Khajiit slaves that she had once rescued and freed during her days as the Nerevarine. They had been only too happy to maintain the large ships until Marie came for them, and in return, Marie allowed them to join her and the refugees.  
  
When the three ships reached Vhinderahl, all but one was dismantled completely, so that they had the materials to build more housing without having to cut down more trees. Everyone was more than happy to put in the hard work needed to get everything done, including Marie herself, who never once treated anyone there as a servant or as beneath her. And once the community was truly fully ready to begin life as a safe haven for the outcasts, Marie made it adamantly clear to the original twelve who settled it with her 9 months ago after their chance encounter in the ruins of Ald'ruhn, that they were not her servants, or her soldiers, but simply her people. And she convened a council with all 62 members of the community to set out their laws and to name it.  
  
She had already told them of her wish to set rules respecting the green and limiting the use of trees for materials. They agreed to hunt only for food and to never waste any part of anything they killed. They all agreed to teach the children they would have to live in harmony and to respect and cherish the differences between them all. That this place would be free of the petty hatreds and prejudices of the outside world. And they agreed to shelter their children from those harsh realities about the outside world so that they need never be burdened by the pain of knowing how they would be treated in Tamriel. They agreed to work together as a community, to help each other and take care of each other.  
  
And they named their fledgling little village Ald'Jansa, after Marie's fallen friend, whose death nearly three decades ago had planted in Marie's heart the first seeds of her desire to find and create this place.  
  
***  
  
"After that," Marie explained, "I would leave Ald'Jansa every few years to seek out the persecuted, the outcast, the rejected, the victimized, and find others to bolster our community. After three more decades I had brought more than enough people here, of all manner of races, for all manner of reasons. Orcs who were outcast for renouncing the warrior lifestyle, High Elves who were exiled from Aldmeri for speaking out against the Thalmor, Falmer who wanted to stop hiding underground and reclaim their once proud identities as Snow Elves. Many others with similar circumstances. By the end of my 30 years of recruiting, there were nearly 200 people here. Now there are over a thousand. I expect some of you will be repeating these stories for a few days to get everyone in the city all caught up."  
  
"But now you all know the full truth," Marie continued. "Everything that shaped this place. From my Bosmer family who accepted a Breton child as one of their own, teaching me from infancy that differences should be celebrated, not feared, to the murder of a dear friend, that made me wish to find a safe place for all those whom others would do harm for petty reasons. Everything that shaped in my mind the idea of this place and what it could be. And why it's wort fighting to protect from those who are coming to destroy it."  
  
"But why are they coming?" asked a young Aureal girl named Glivchen. "Why do they want to hurt us? What happened down in the harbour last week that caused all of these preparations for war?"  
  
"Fate caught up with me," Svetla interjected. "You all know that until three years ago I was the Jarl of Solitude, in the Province of Skyrim. Sort of like the chief of a big city and it's surrounding settlements. But when my birth mother died, and Marie came to attend her funeral, I decided to abdicate my title to my cousin and travel with my other Mother, Marie, whom had caused me to grow in Serana's womb."  
  
"We do indeed Little Goddess," said Nereen. "What of it?"  
  
"There were Thanes in Solitude," Svetla explained, "lazy selfish people born into wealth and influence who had always hated my having been named Jarl when my adopted co-mother Lydia passed away a few decades ago. They believed that as nobility THEY should have taken the throne as Jarl, not I. And when I abdicated, they believed their son should have claimed my throne instead of my cousin."  
  
From the fortifications, Captain Reinard finally spoke up.  
  
"While I had always been fiercely loyal to Svetla as my Jarl," he said, "my duty was to Solitude. When Thane Erikur declared a public challenge to Jarl Camille's legitimacy to the throne, the law was clear. He could place his son Karlen on the throne, overthrowing Camille, if it could be proven that Svetla was either dead, or mentally unsound when she chose her successor. To do so, Svetla had to be found. In my duty to Solitude, I HAD to make every effort to find her. So I hired the Thieves Guild to put their talents to good use, as spies and scouts to find her. After a few months, they succeeded, spotting her at Raven Rock in Solthsteim. Every few months like clockwork, she, Marie, and a crew of Dunmer and Altmer sailors arrived in Raven Rock on that old fine ship of theirs to acquire supplies they needed. Building materials, fabrics, various other necessities. Erikur commanded me and the co-captain of the Solitude Guard, his corrupt son Karlen whom he wanted on the Throne, and he himself, to charter a ship to Raven Rock, and to stealthily follow Svetla's ship wherever it was headed to."  
  
"We successfully followed them without being detected," Reinard continued. "We hid behind some tall shoals so they would not spot us from their docks. Once they had all left the ship to carry all their goods up to your city, we dropped anchor and Karlen and I plus the men standing here with me, rowed ashore with Erikur and his personal guard. We sent a scout to follow the path uphill to see what we were dealing with. Unbeknownst to all of you, our scout observed your city, and reported back to us. Erikur cackled with glee, declaring that he could now easily declare this settlement full of demons and outcasts to be proof that Svetla was not of sound mind. On top of that, he would bring back an army of Nords from Skyrim to slaughter all of the abominations he felt you all to be, thinking it would make him so much a hero to the Nords that he could bypass putting his son on the Jarl's throne and challenge for the throne of the High Queen, given Elisef's advanced age."  
  
"That was where I drew the line," Reinard said. "I declared that my loyalty ultimately laid with Svetla, whom I had served most of my adult life, and that I would not allow Erikur and Karlen to slaughter a city full of innocents who had done them no harm, no matter what those innocent people were. The men you see here with me or those loyal to me who stood by me. Karlen, being the impetuous pampered fool he had always been, charged at me with his weapon drawn, and found himself impaled on mine in his carelessness. Erikur screamed in rage, and swore he would destroy us and every living thing on this island. We formed a human barrier and dared he or the four soldiers who had chosen to remain loyal to him to try to pass us. Like cowards they all ran back to the boat and returned to the ship, leaving us here and swearing to return in a fortnight with an army of Nord reinforcements."  
  
"After that," Svetla said, "he sought me and my mother out, and told us of Erikur's threat. Mother called a concil meeting with the elders, and it was decided that, reluctantly, we must prepare ourselves for the coming invasion, to protect you all and everything we have built here. Reinard and his men swore to defend us to their dying breath, and Marie has been tearing her body up creating magic wards to force any army Erikur brings to be limited to trying to breach this pass alone. She has 26 new scars just from thes past few weeks, to my displeasure."  
  
"I had no choice," Marie said. "What are a few more scars if I can use some of my power to help us fortify ourselves?"  
  
"This is our home Inheritor," Nereen said, standing up. "And we will be proud to defend it as fiercely as you have fought to create it for us. We belong here. We were born here. Every person here, be they man, mer, Khajiit, Argonian, Mazken, Aureal, Dremora, or a particularly sturbborn pair of secret Goddesses, are my family. And I will die before I let ANYONE through to do them harm!"  
  
"As will I!" shouted Glivchen, rising to stand beside her Mazken sister. "I have never known a world where Nereen's kind and mine were bitter enemies for petty reasons and I never want to. In my brief 18 years in this world I have known only a world where Nereen is my dearest friend and soon to be my dearest wife. I refuse to do nothing while outsiders who do not know the beauty and joy of loving their fellows as equals come and try to destroy us. Their world would have my betrothed and I at each others' throats, or dead, all because we look different than they do? I refuse to accept that world. The only world I care about is the one where Nereen has my heart, and that is this world here, on Vhinderahl! And I will defend it if it kills me!"  
  
Several others stood up and said similar things. Cheers broke out in the crowd. Marie let them boost each other's spirits with this show of unity, and she was dearly proud to see it. After awhile, she shushed the crowd and spoke.  
  
"I had hoped," she began, "that this day would never come. That no one would ever find this place that I did not set out to bring here. I had hoped no child born here would ever know the burden of feeling the weight of knowing people exist out there who would hate you or harm you simply because youy are not like them. I would have given anything for none of you to have ever had to raise a hand in violence to defend those you love. As I love you all. So much so that I have been willing to tap into the power that might kill me if overused just to give us all a fighting chance. So I declare this; You will not fight if we can help it. Anyone under the age of 16 must be kept safe in the centre of the city. All of you, you will gather here, between the city and the pass, as a last resort in case we fail. The elders and I, and Svetla and her loyal soldiers, WE will guard the pass. WE will be the first line of defense. All of us have known battle before. We have killed to protect ourselves and our loved ones. We already know the sting of those stains upon our souls. And if we can prevent it, we will do our damnedest to see to it that, however willing you are to fight, that you never HAVE to. If we should fail, then yes, defend your children, your brothers, your sisters, your families. Defend our city, our home, if we fail. But by everything we have built here, I swear we will do everything in our power to make sure you need never spill a single drop of blood."  
  
The crowd nodded at Marie's words, and everyone went home to try to get as much sleep as possible before the coming battle. Everyone except Marie and Svetla, who climbed up the Plateau to sit on the edge of the cliff face and look out across the moonlit ocean.  
  
"Do you regret bringing me here Mother?" Svetla asked.  
  
"Not for a single second Little Burden," Marie replied. "Bringing you here removed the last lingering reason I had to ever leave. For awhile now I've thought about letting other, younger people here take over for me in my trips. The only reason I was crossing into Skyrim that day that I was arrested for being near Ulfric was to try and make contact with the Falmer and see if any of them might wish to come here. I ended up stuck there for over two years dealing with that whole Alduin mess. But even before that I was getting tired of returning to Tamriel once a year to look for outcasts to bring here. I have long wanted to just settle here permanently, with my people, and just live out my eternal life somewhere where I can just exist like everyone else, where no one puts me on a pedestal, where I can just live a quiet peaceful life."  
  
"I'm glad," Svetla said, "but I still feel responsible for all of this. You had not planned on bringing me with you after Mother died. I kind of surprised you. I should have expected Erikur to be the self-centred power-hungry elitist pig he hs always been and make a grab for power."  
  
"The actions of idiots are not your doing daughter," Marie said. "A fact it took me a few hundred years to appreciate. Whatever happens tomorrow, it is not your fault. And we will face it together."  
  
Svetla cuddled into her mother's arms, and the pair watched the sea until the sun rose, and a single ship appeared on the horizon. They looked at one another, confused. A single ship that small couldn't be bringing an entire army. Was it just an advance scouting party? It seemed so odd given Erikur's threats. He was a rich powerful man and many Nords still had a reputation for being xenophobic. When a small boat departed from the larger ship and made it's way to shore, Marie and Svetla leapt from the top of the plateau to the ground below, their immortality protecting them from harm. They ran down to the dock to greet whomever was on the small boat, and found themselves surprised to be greeted by a pair of old friends, High Queen Elisef, and Karliah of the Nightingales.  
  
Svetla approached Elisef and hugged her, whilst Marie did the same with Karliah.  
  
"Been rather a long time Karliah," Marie said.  
  
"It has indeed my friend," Karliah replied.  
  
"Why are you both here?" Svetla asked. "We were expecting a fleet of murderous Nords."  
  
Elisef, still strong and healthy despite being nearly 90 years old, smiled and sat on a bench that had been built on the dock for fishing purposes.  
  
"Well the funny thing is," she began, "that Erikur made three very crucial mistakes before he came to your island last month. The first was that he underestimated Reinard's loyalty to you, and made the mistake of coming home without him and his trusted soldiers, which immediately raised red flags. The second was that, as he had done his entire life, he underestimated how much his sister Gisli hates him. She took advantage of his absence to find proof of his plans to overthrow Camille and eventually myself. Plans which involved a lot of murder, bribery, and outright lies."  
  
"And the third mistake?" Marie asked.  
  
"Not realizing that Reinard had hired a bunch of people who were in debt to you," Karliah said. "I have long owed you an unrepayable debt for everything that you did for the Guild and for me. When my thieves reported to me that you were with the wayward Jarl we had been hired to find, I replaced Erikur's personal guard contingent with my own men. With those face covering helmests he always had them wear, he never knew the difference."  
  
"When Erikur returned to Solitude," Elisef said, "he was met with soldiers who arrested him. While he ranted and raved about the "island of Abominations" and how Svetla was a madwoman, Karliah's men reported to her what had actually happened here, and she in turn brought that information to me. Erikur was charged with Treason leading to the death of his own son, and was executed. Then Karliah and I sailed here to tell you that your sanctuary is safe."  
  
"Yes," Karliah agreed. "Neither the High Queen, nor my men and I, will ever allow anyone we do not trust to know this island exists. We understand what you've created here, and we both owe you more than we can repay. All Tamriel does many times over. We will make certain not only that your island remains a secret, but we will send you monthly shipments of the supplies you had been sailing to Raven Rock to purchase, so that you need never risk being exposed again."  
  
Marie and Svetla looked at ech other, then again hugged Elisef and Karliah.  
  
"Thank you," Marie said. "Now it's I who is in your debt, for protecting the secret sanctuary we've built here. You have no idea what a relief it is that we can avoid shedding blood here. That our children need never feel the stain that would leave on their souls."  
  
"It's our pleasure," Elisef said, smiling as she and Karliah got back into their boat.  
  
"We are grateful," Svetla said.  
  
"No need," Karliah said as they began to row back to their ship.  
  
"Why not?" Marie asked. Karliah winked at her and smiled, and as they pulled away from the dock to leave Marie and her daughter and all their people in peace, Elisef shouted to them.  
  
"Because it was the Right Thing."

**Author's Note:**

> Letting this end the series. It seems a good place to end Marie's story. I could probably tell more, but I wanted to avoid directly relating in game events as much as possible, preferring to set the bulk of my story in the preludes and the aftermaths and the side moments as much as possible. But I think I'm satisfied with this as a trilogy.


End file.
